


Dad Trap

by lovefaking



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, bokuto is a Big Fan of 90s girl groups but also shitty soundcloud rappers, hinata is Babey in this, like literally babey he’s 8 months old
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 00:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovefaking/pseuds/lovefaking
Summary: Bokuto Koutarou does not have a kid. However, he has a very handsome aspiring photographer who thinks he has a kid and friends who just happen to have a spare lying around.





	Dad Trap

**Author's Note:**

> um. i just wanted to write a bokuaka fic bc i just finished the tokyo expedition arc and i love bokuto & akaashi so much. there’s gonna be a few chapters to this, most will be posted sporadically until mid-june after exams are done for me. and like. ive proofread this multiple times but there might be some mistakes still so my bad broskis
> 
> [tumblr](https://niggorio.tumblr.com) ; [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/mizaiistom)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto Koutarou procures a gremlin.

 

Bokuto was absolutely sure he could babysit for a night.

 

That’s what he told Daichi and Suga, friends from university that desperately needed a break from eight month-old Shouyou. He knew he wasn’t their first choice for a sitter — that honor went to Azumane Asahi, who was out of town this weekend — or even in top five, but that didn’t bother him that much. He babysat his cousins all the time, so he was totally sure he could babysit Baby Sawamura for a night. Yes, his aunt had been within a ten foot radius for the entire five minutes she asked him to “babysit,” but Bokuto still counted it. All experience was good experience, he decided, which meant he would do great.

 

And it also didn’t really matter that his cousins had been eleven at the time, because it wasn’t like there was any _real_ difference between an eleven year-old and an eight month-old. That’s what Bokuto thought as he listened to Suga’s long list of advice and requests, still fairly confident in his ability to keep his friends’ son for the night. He retained only bits and pieces of it, as Daichi had already written all of the important things down on a list he shoved into the overnight bag now slung over Bokuto’s shoulder.

 

“And if an emergency happens, our phones will be on,” Suga concluded after he finished instructing Bokuto on how to go about feeding Shoyou. It was much more complicated than “hand him an open jar of baby food and let him go ham,” which had been Bokuto’s original plan.

 

Daichi nodded, his son resting in one arm while a car seat hung off of the other. “I wrote down the restaurant’s number, too. Just in case our phones suddenly decide to stop working, which is entirely possible because—“

 

“Daichi, everything will be fine,” Suga interrupted. He turned with a loving smile to his husband and their son, but his next words were all directed at Bokuto. “And if something does happen to our Shouyou… well, I’m sure it won’t. You’ll make sure nothing happens to Shouyou, right, Bokuto?”

 

His tone was as sweet and soft as his smile and yet Bokuto could still feel the underlying threat. He gulped and nodded quickly. “Right,” he answered. “I’ll give him back in the same condition I found him in, sort of. I’m gonna make him cooler.” He was glad to hear Suga laughing along with him — it got his heart to start beating like normal again.

 

Daichi was the first to speak,  “Thanks again, Bokuto. We really appreciate this.” He handed the car seat over to Bokuto, who had no idea how heavy car seats with children in them actually were. “We’ve gotta be at the restaurant in about an hour, so—“

 

Bokuto got the message: “Take our kid and get the hell out.” So he did just that, throwing a few quick goodbyes behind him as he left their apartment. He jogged out of their building and down to his car, where he met his first challenge.

 

“What the fuck. What the actual fucking fuck.”

 

Bokuto thought about calling Suga and asking how the _fuck_ was he supposed to get the car seat — and by extension, the wide-eyed Shouyou it contained — attached to the backseat, but he decided against it. He could totally figure this out on his own; he just needed to think for a second.

 

“Do you think your dads would get mad if I just let you ride in the front seat just this one time?” he asked the baby, who just blinked up at him. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re so short you wouldn’t even be able to enjoy the view. But how am I gonna get this carseat in? Can you unstrap yourself and do it?”

 

And just like that, it hit him — use a seatbelt to strap the car seat down. He checked the side of the carseat and followed the directions, which he probably should’ve done in the first place, but hindsight was always 20/20 for Bokuto Koutarou. The silver-haired man reached for the middle seat belt and fed it through the proper opening in the car seat’s back until he could click it in place. It looked vaguely secure, so he figured it probably was and if it wasn’t, the drive back to his place wasn’t _that_ bumpy and Shouyou looked like a pretty durable kid. If worse came to worse then Bokuto figured he could _totally_ catch him midair.

 

Once he was fairly confident in both the car seat’s security and his own reflexes, Bokuto jogged around the car, hopped into the front seat and plugged the AUX cord into his phone so he could introduce his new passenger to some real music, none of that shit about wheels on a bus or some dude’s farm. “Shou-chan, listen, I know you’re still on that Baby Shark wave,” he said as he scrolled through one of his playlists, “and that’s cool, but we gotta step your game up here. I can’t have you hanging with me and _not_ listening to real music. Lemme put you on something _classic._ ”

 

According to Bokuto Koutarou, real music was a playlist that had “Say My Name” by Destiny’s Child exactly 32 times, and it was what he and Shouyou listened to for the entirety of the ride to his apartment. He was somewhat frustrated by Shouyou’s ignorance of the lyrics even by the fourth listening, but then he remembered that the red-headed baby couldn’t even talk yet — much less perfectly replicate Kelly Rowland’s harmony — so Bokuto supposed he would let him off the hook for now.

 

The car rolled to a stop in front of his apartment building halfway through Beyoncé’s second verse, and once it came to an end, Bokuto went about the business of getting up to his apartment on the fourth floor. “Shou-chan, your thoughts on the stairs?” he asked of the baby now settled soundly on his hip.

 

Shouyou stared up at him.

 

“You’re absolutely right, elevator it is.”

 

His apartment was definitely not the most ideal place to keep a child for a night. It was a tiny one-bedroom, the most child-friendly thing in the entire apartment being the giant blankets thrown over the back of the worn-out couch. Bokuto’s aunt had sent them as a housewarming gift, and now he’d spread them out over the living room floor, right in front of the TV that now played one of the shows Daichi had told him to put on whenever he needed keep Shouyou occupied while he got something done.

 

With the baby planted square in front of the TV, wide brown eyes fixated on the screen’s bright colors, Bokuto flopped down on the couch behind him and fished his phone out of his pocket. He tapped through his notifications and found that most of them were from Kuroo Tetsurou, his former roommate and current employee at the EZ SQEEZ Mini Mart.

 

**Rooster Head**

> Bro I hate this job

> That’s it, I’m putting my two weeks notice in right fucking now

> Wait nvm I can’t quit. I’m fucking broke.

> Bo what are your thoughts on dismantling capitalism?

> BO

> Fucking answer me, airhead

 

You’ve wanted to quit since you got the job bro

Just fucking do it

YOLO

 

Bokuto barely got a chance to move his thumb from the send button before Kuroo was Facetiming him. Grinning to himself, he slid his thumb across his screen. “Yo, Kuroo, guess wh—“

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

Kuroo’s thin, angular face filled his screen, his snarl amplified from what Bokuto thought was a terrible angle. Kuroo stared at him for a moment before going on, “I really do hate this fucking job, man.”

 

“I know, I know, but Kuroo lo—“

 

“I have to train some dumbass kid,” the black-haired man interrupted. “He’s even dumber than you, Koutarou. This kid seriously asked me how he should restock the ramen, like, you just put more on the shelf, dumbass. It’s not rocket science.”

 

Bokuto nodded, ducking his head so Kuroo wouldn’t see him laughing. Once he got it out, he was on the verge of saying something in response when he heard the sound of a toilet flushing. “Dude, are you taking a shit right now?”

 

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “No, dumbass,” he huffed, as if it was just normal to sit on a toilet when you weren’t currently using it. “I’m hiding in here so that the new kid doesn’t find me and so my manager doesn’t notice my break ended an hour ago.”

 

“You’re gonna get fired, man.”

 

“I fucking hope so. Wait, no, I don’t want to get fired. But I really hate this job.”

 

Kuroo went on for a while longer, stopping only to yell at a voice who had begged to use the bathroom. Bokuto figured it must’ve been the kid, judging from the cracks in his voice and Kuroo’s hostility towards him. With his friend occupied, he turned his attention to Shouyou, who had given up on his show’s lessons about the importance of teamwork. Instead, he was facing Bokuto, listening eagerly to the conversation.

 

Bokuto hoped he couldn’t understand what they were saying yet.

 

Kuroo was still going on when an idea popped into Bokuto’s silver head. With the press of a button he flipped the camera, his own face replaced with Shouyou’s.

 

“I really don’t need this job, I think. I have enough savings, and if I don’t then I can just crash at my parents’ place, or—“

 

“Kuroo, _look_.”

 

Kuroo’s eyes went wide. “Not to alarm you, Bo, but you’ve got a fucking gremlin in your apartment.”

 

“That’s just Shou-chan,” Bokuto answered, not even bothering to hide his laughter this time. “He’s not a gremlin.”

 

“Human children don’t look like that, Koutarou. Isn’t that the Sawamura kid?”

 

“Yep, I’m babysitting him.”

 

Kuroo raised a brow. “They let _you_ babysit their precious gremlin?” he asked. “No fucking way, you’re joking.”

 

“The baby food jars sitting in my fridge say otherwise.”

 

“Unbelievable,” Kuroo mumbled. “Well as much as I’d love to continue to get you to just admit you kidnapped their child because there is no way either Sawamura would trust his child to _you,_ my manager is currently blowing up my phone asking where I am. My pink slip awaits. Next time you see me I’ll be enjoying blissful unemployment.”

 

Bokuto thought about mentioning that this was now the eighth time his friend had an imaginary pink slip waiting for him in the past three months, but decided to just say goodbye and hang up instead. He set his phone down in his lap and ran a hand through his silver hair, glancing down at Shouyou. It was only 6:30PM, which meant he still had an hour and a half until Shou-chan was supposed to be put to sleep.

 

“You got any plans for tonight?”

 

Silence. A slight tilt of his almost comically large head.

 

“Me neither,” said Bokuto. “Let’s hit the gym.”

 


End file.
